Mulby generally rested upon a fixture of some permanence in the large room of a stone abode with many shadows.

Beneath where his property ended was a gaping hole with several steel columns on either side.

I forgot to mention, Mulby was a thin and sallow candlestick with rather a short wick.

He would sit for days and days upon his ledge and look out into the great chasm, sighing because his wick had never been lit. (Singed, perhaps, but never lit.)

It is a great shame for a candlewick to never be lit, but poor Mulby had no holder to fit securely into, and thus was overlooked each time the elusive flame came around.

Several new acquaintances were introduced over a significant period of time, but they came in pairs or they were not suitable for holding the amount of wax that a lit Mulby wick might produce.

There came Lucinda, but she seemed very attached to Basil.

There was Merlot, but she held too much inside.

Insentia was so delicate that she could hardly stand on her own.

It seemed that no matter how long Mulby stared into the great chasm or how hard he sighed, he was no closer to finding a holder to fit his peculiar shape. The whole thing about being a candlestick seemed very futile.

To a quite decorative goblet who sometimes looked out into nothingness next to him, Mulby one day suggested, "You have been empty for some time; why not hold me for a while so that the elusive flame might strike my wick, and I can melt into you? Then we both will be utilized."

This did not fare well, for the goblet enjoyed being empty, and her answer was harsh. "Instead, why don't you fling yourself off this fixture of some permanence and into the gaping hole?"

Mulby's cheeks turned red with embarrassment, and in a fit of irrationality and emotional impulse, he did just that…

and broke in two.

THE END.

What? You don't like that ending?  Oh, all right…!

That is, that would have been the end, had not a glimmer of something unusually reflective caught Mulby's eye.

"Hello? Who's there?" he called, but only a faint rustling answered.

As he moved in toward the shadows he heard what sounded like crying, like the distressing sobs of someone very sad. "Now then, come on out and let me see you, for you sound as sad as I. Perhaps you'd like to talk about it." Mulby squinted and looked into the darkness.

"I would rather not be seen," said a quiet voice, sniffling, "for I am a candlestick holder who has been dropped and cracked. It is a great shame for a candlestick holder to be cracked, especially because I have never held a candlestick. The whole thing about being a holder seems very futile."

Mulby stood looking at the ground, his heart suddenly very heavy for the candlestick holder's tragic plight.

"Well, I can empathize at least. Why, look at me; I am a candlestick who has just flung himself off a fixture of some permanence and into a gaping hole. Now I am broken in two, held together only by a wick that has never been lit. I certainly will never find a candlestick holder to fit my peculiar shape, and even if I could, I doubt very much that she would want anything to do with me."

The candlestick holder peeked out into the light. "You really never had a holder?" she asked.

"Never," replied Mulby. "And now I think I shall burn my own self up and spill my wax onto this concrete just to be done with it all."

The candlestick holder hopped awkwardly into view. "First, would you sit with me a while? It has been quite some time since I was dropped; I feel I have to get some things off my rim."

So they sat and talked…

and talked…

and talked…

and talked.

Before either one knew it, the sun had risen and set for so many days that it was time once again for the elusive flame to come around.

But this time when it did, something unprecedented occurred. Just as the flame was approaching the fixture of some permanence, it suddenly stopped, changed its course, and headed straight for Mulby! Before he could figure what was happening, his wick was lit!

"Aaaaaagh!" he screamed, frantically circling his new friend. "I'm lit! I'm lit! What do I do?"

The candlestick holder swallowed an enormous gulp of air. "Melt into me."

Mulby jerked to a halt, bewildered. "What?"

She spoke again, carefully pacing her words. "Mulby, I have so enjoyed your company over these days that I've forgotten what I was so sad about. Even this crack in my torso doesn't seem so irreparable. I think I've fallen in love with you."

Mulby held himself as steady as a burning, broken candle could, and took a good long look at the candlestick holder. For the first time he realized what a gorgeous sterling base she had, how smooth and perfectly round her rim was. He noticed for the first time the intricate detail of her elaborate engraving, and how untarnished she was—how there was not one smudge to be found.

"Oh my gosh!" he mused, excited and surprised. "I love you too! I…I can't even believe it. I don't know how or when it happened, but I love you! I'm on fire for you!"

What happened next was the most beautiful sight. The candlestick and the candlestick holder neared each other—closer, closer—and as it turned out, when their peculiar shapes melded together in the shimmering wick light, it was the most perfect fit ever in all of history.

Mulby continued to melt, and the wax sealed him back into one piece as it dripped down into Merri, which I forgot to mention was the candlestick holder's name. Additionally, it sealed very nicely the crack she had been worried about upon their first meeting, so that no one ever even knew it was there.

Mulby and Merri had found each other, which might never have happened had he not thrown himself off the fixture of some permanence, or had she not been dropped.

As it was, he burned and she reflected the light, and they shone brightly for the full span of a candlestick's life.

And when he finally burned out, not until a good while later, she was coated with many layers of wax.

THE END.
(Really, this time.)